


The Mystery of the Groovy Gallery Gremlin

by Missy



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo Where Are You! (TV 1969)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Caper Fic, Gen, Humor, Masks, Mystery, Villain Fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11193387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Velma's aunt's gallery showing - involving a painting made with priceless oils - is interrupted by the Gallery Gremlin, who's determined to stop her from auctioning the painting off to benefit the less fortunate.





	The Mystery of the Groovy Gallery Gremlin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ANGSWIN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANGSWIN/gifts).



“Gee, Velma,” Daphne observed, a hand on her hips and the fingertips of the other wrapped around the stem of a punch glass, “I didn’t know your aunt was such a famous artist!” 

“Neither did I,” Velma admitted, clicking off another picture, then winding the film reel to the next usable shot. She hoped to send a batch of them to her other family members. “We hardly ever each other, and the last time my mom went to one of her showings she said Aunt Susan only sold a little statue of a pig. This is a pretty good turn out!”

Fred peeped around the corner of the last partition, sitting on the bench beside Daphne. “Hey, Freddie, did you see Scooby and Shaggy anywhere? I want them to be here for my Aunt’s big unveiling!”

Fred hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll give you two guesses and the second one doesn’t count.”

“Oh boy,” said Velma. Predictably the boys were clustered about the buffet table at the far end of the room, making themselves enormous sandwiches out of the various fixings on display.

Shaggy was drooling at the repast spread out before him on the table. “Like, oh boy, Scoob! They even have little water crackers!”

“Water crackers?”

“Little pieces of baked bread to put cheese on!” said Shaggy, grabbing a paper plate and overlaying it with anything he could get his hands on. He and Scooby were soon carrying plates of food that teetered precariously over their heads, threatening at any moment to disgorge their contents. Before that could happen, both dog and master eagerly downed their plates and settled back onto the benches nearby, rubbing their stomachs in satisfied circles.

Velma ceased to watch Shaggy and Scooby’s show when her Aunt Grizelda appeared, coming at Velma full speed, her arms spread wide and her day-glo caftan gleaming in the gallery’s low light. “VELMA. DARLING!” she said, before enveloping her niece in a hug.

Velma grinned – Shalimar, paint thinner and basil filled her nostrils, the distinct scent that was her auntie Grizelda’s to a tee. “Congratulations, Aunt Griz. Are you enjoying the showing?”

“Of course,” she said, her oversized earrings jogging enthusiastically in the air. “Why anyone who’s ANYONE in the Chicago art scene is here, and they’re all dying to get the first pictures of my new piece.”

Velma grinned. “I remember from your letter.The rebirth of Apollo! It sounds fascinating!”

“Oh, it shall be – mostly because it there are thousands in priceless oils worked into the painting!” She clapped her hands in delight. “It will be the loveliest picture in the entire exhibition, and the one I’m hoping shall bring in the most money for the poor dear orphans I’m looking to assist.” 

“I can’t wait to see it,” Velma said. Auntie Griz had always been something of an exception to her science-loving family’s general existence; she loved glitz and glamour more than her own right arm, and she absolutely adored being at the center of everyone’s attention. When she demanded attention from the audience, even Shaggy and Scooby sat up and took notice, a chicken bone bulging comically in Scooby’s cheek for a second before he gulped it down.

“I hope you’re all enjoying tonight’s show,” Aunt Griz said. “In fact, for those with generous wallets, every piece on display tonight is for sale.” 

“I hope she doesn’t mean us!” Shaggy whispered aside to Velma, who smirked at his honesty. It wasn’t as if she could afford the paintings herself even though charity was involved; she and the gang often lived hand to mouth as they journeyed between towns and places, taking what little they could in the way of food and luxury.

“….Except for this piece! A priceless commingling of rare oils and ancient techniques that are rarely seen in modern art, there is only one painting like The Rebirth of Apollo, and you will have the privilege of witnessing its beauty for the duration of this show only! After tonight it will be bequeathed to the Coolsville Museum of Art, where it will reside in the modern wing

“She’s laying it on a bit thick,” Fred stage-whispered to Velma, earning him an elbow from Daphne to the ribs. 

“Without further ado, I present: The Rebirth of Apollo!” Auntie Griz yanked back the curtain from the portrait frame. Two seconds later a horrified shriek rent the air.

For where once apparently hung a magnificent oil painting now stood a completely empty frame.

 

 

****

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------**

 

 

“Like, are you sure this isn’t supposed to be one of those modern art things where there is no picture and that’s the point?” Shaggy and Scooby were a few feet away from Velma in the now empty-except-for-Auntie Griz and the rest of the team gallery. 

Velma hummed, taking in the scene with magnifying glass and eager eye. There was torn white paper torn all about the frame, hinting that a painting had been ripped from its edges – and several tiny smears close to a larger fingerprint. She made a mental note.

“I can assure you that there was once a picture hanging on that wall,” Auntie Griz said. “And if it’s not found then the hope of opening the Dinkley Orphanage for Homeless Youth and keeping the gallery in my name will forever be dashed.”

“Good,” came a voice from the doorway of the gallery. “Maybe if you concentrate on paying off your debts first then you can care for those less fortunate.”

Griz’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“The police call the owner of the building,” he said, then eyeballed Shaggy and Scooby. “I told you not to let squatter artists sleep in your loft anymore.”

“A squatter!?” Shaggy said. “I like, don’t even bend over if I can help it!”

“Roar run!” said Scooby.

Auntie Griz sighed. “Kids, this is my landlord, Mister Mike MacPhee.”

“Begrudgingly,” he said.

“Yes, he’s wanted me to move ever since I moved in.”

“Because when I envisioned an art gallery I didn’t envision surety risks and over the top shenanigans! I was picturing white wine and higher class individuals.”

Scooby proceeded to prove he had plenty of class by tap-dancing in a top hat and tails. MacPhee seemed unimpressed.

“The sooner you clear out,” said Mister MacPhee, “the sooner I can renovate this place and open it as a night club.”

Auntie Griz’ eyes flashed fire. “That won’t be happening!” she shouted. “Ever since I rid myself of that trouble maker Maestro Gregario I’ve vowed to keep producing my art!”

“We’ll see about that. Good luck finding your painting and saving yourself – and those orphans!” He exited, cackling.

Daphne shook her head. “Oh boy, what a creep!” she declared.

“We’ve got bigger fish to fry,” Velma said. “Looks like there’s more than one set of fingerprints. Whoever took the painting didn’t do it alone – and they didn’t do it with clean fingers. These are all sticky with jelly.”

“Maybe a peanut butter sandwich gang came through!”

“You know what this calls for, gang! Time to split up!” Fred said. “Daphne and I will search the west side of the gallery and Shaggy and Scooby and Velma…”

“We stay here,” Velma said, trying to match fingerprints to carpet treads. It was slow going. She knew just what to do.

“Scooby,” Velma said, patting the great dane’s head. She held up her jelly-laden fingertips. “Can you pick up this scent, old boy?”

Scooby sniffed reluctantly. He swiped her fingertips with a single gooey lick, then was suddenly running at full force toward the door of the gallery.

 

 

****

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------**

 

 

He led them to a creepy, underlit supply closet. Of course. As the smell of cleaning supplies filled Velma’s nose, making her want to sneeze.  


“Like, I have a feeling all of this poking around’s totally for nothing. It’s her landlord!” Shaggy insisted. 

“Shag, we all know that the most obvious clues don’t always yield the most obvious solutions.” She picked up a black cloak and sniffed it. Scooby’s nose hadn’t failed them – it absolutely stank of strawberry jelly.

That was when they heard a creepy, low-pitched laugh echo from behind them.

The hall light was snuffed out two seconds later.

 

 

****

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------**

 

 

In a blind panic, they raced away from the….tie-dyed, floating goblin with a painter’s palate for a head? Honestly she didn’t know where these criminals came up with this stuff half of the time.

Daphne happened to be standing in the way; Fred pulled her partially out of the path of the inevitable collision, but the man with the palate head tumbled over both of their feet, collapsing right against Daphne.

They tied him up and held him for the police. It was Velma’s turn to pull off the mask of the perpetrator.

And it was Aunt Griz!

“Sure, you caught me,” she snapped. “I was going to make a big show of the painting being gone, stir up some publicity – make a huge bundle off of the publicity before the painting would just suddenly resurface one day.”

“But what about the orphans?” Velma asked.

“There weren’t any!” Auntie Griz shrugged. “Well, there are some, I’m sure, but none that I know personally. All that fame was going to be mine, and the gallery too!”

“An awfully clever scheme,” Velma considered. “But you should have known that inviting us would bring your downfall about. And that I'd remember your index finger is shorter than your ring finger - thereby explaining the uneven fingerprints. Maybe there’s still some good in you yet.”

“I would’ve gotten away with it, if it wasn’t for you meddling kids!” yelled Auntie Griz as she was dragged away.

“And,” piped up the dog happily from Velma’s side, “Scooby dooby Doo!”

**Author's Note:**

> While Velma has canonical aunts and uncles, none of them quite match Auntie Griz in her description, so she's a creation entirely my own! Writing g-rated fic for the canon was a lot of fun;


End file.
